My Favourite Redhead
by Teddy78
Summary: Co-written with BossaNovaBaby24. Set on Caprica. AU. Money and Paranoia are Private Eye William Adama's best friends. That is, until his next job brings something else into his life...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 1

_It started out like every other day. The piles of work that probably awaited me at the office were diminutive only to the amount of paperwork I expected to see by nightfall. Although I hadn't worked on any case in a couple of days, the paperwork never seemed to end but only multiplied every time I turned my back. I could have done with a change of pace, but considering the last few days it would probably take nothing short of a miracle for that to happen. The days were tedious, a routine that barely succeeded in getting me up in the morning. My job wanted control of my life, and I let it. Yes, this day was just like any other ... for a while anyway ..._

William Adama sat back in his chair, sighing in frustration. When he had got up this morning, he had laughed derisively at the reports of a hot day, knowing full well that Caprica liked to surprise even the weather reporters. It was wildly unpredictable. It was just his bad luck that for once it decided to cooperate with the reports, making Adama seem a very stupid man.  
Wiping a newly formed layer of sweat from his forehead, he pushed his back into the chair, hoping that at least one part of him could be relieved from the unbearable heat that circled his office.

The shirt that had smelled clean and looked semi-pressed earlier this morning was beginning to cling to his sweat-soaked body in a way that made him glad that no clients had shown up yet. Sighing in frustration, he got up and walked over to the small fan that stood a few feet away and to the right of his desk, cursing under his breath, when he once again failed to turn it on.

Why did fans have to be so frakking annoying? With a desperate thump channelling his annoyance, he managed to push the button in far enough to start the fan, before hastily retreating back behind his desk. The fan whined feebly, serving only to circulate the heat faster around him. Bill knew this, yet he liked to labour under the illusion that it conjured up fresh, cool air to blow at him. Every so often, it fluttered the corners of many pages of work, skimming his desk where his hands rested previously. Other than that, however, it served no real purpose other than to make the room look a lot colder than it actually was.

The window behind him was pulled shut. He had opened it that morning, but immediately closed it after sticking his hand out, realising that the humidity in the air was even worse outside. His office was actually a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of Caprica City.  
In an effort to keep the growing boredom at bay, Bill looked around his office. It was not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but Bill figured he could have done worse. The building was situated in one of Caprica's suburbs, far enough away from the city centre for the rent to be affordable for someone with his varying income, but not too far away to scare off middle-class clients. The office itself was located on the 10th floor of the building, so that the noise from the streets below did not disturb him, provided it was not too hot or too cold to open the window.

Bill pulled his glasses from his face and placed them gently down on the desk before him. A dull ache throbbed at his temples, causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose and mutter curses across the room.

"frakking weather ... frakking work ... frakking office ... frakking day ..."

The list continued on until he eventually grew silent, fighting the overwhelming urge to just throw paper across the room and leave. In fact, that didn't sound like a bad idea at all ….

The greatest thing about his job was that there were no set hours. He usually waited until dark before he closed office, pulling the blinds down and locking the door for the night. People were less likely to visit him after hours, knowing that it was quiet on the streets and that someone could easily spot them walking through his door.

Today, however, looked like one of those days when he would close up early. It had been a few days already since a client had stepped over his threshold in need of his services. Bill doubted that today of all days would be any different considering the frakking heat outside, which was fine with him. Of course, the landlord of the apartment he had recently moved into would certainly not be impressed if Bill could not pay his rent at the end of this month. Still, nobody could be expected to sit around in an empty office all day in this heat, waiting for people that wouldn't show up anyway.

His mind made up, Bill rearranged some of the papers on his desk, walked over to the fan and turned it off with only minimal use of force. He was just about to pick up his jacket, coat – why had he even worn it today? – and fedora when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.  
Bill slumped back into his chair in defeat as he heard a faint knocking at his door. Would this day never end?

Covering his mouth with his hand, stifling the oncoming yawn, he wondered whether the person outside would give up and come back tomorrow maybe. However, the knocks were persistent, strong and assured. He had no choice but to let the person in.

"Come in," He spoke clearly and loudly. Why didn't they just give up? Maybe they heard the sound of the fan. Fixing the object in question with his best steely glare, he grumbled at it, "I blame you."

"Excuse me?"

The soft voice caught his attention and he looked up into a woman's curious gaze. She was probably very pretty once, he conceded, his eyes travelling over her.

But age and too much makeup had given her face an artificial look; her blonde hair was hanging limply around her shoulders. Clearly, she had either not bothered to put it up into an elaborate hairstyle today or she had had to concede defeat to the humid heat. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, a sight which Bill had grown accustomed to over the years he'd been working in this job. However, the grey eyes that were boring into him looked cold. She gave off the air of a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, even if it meant playing the vulnerable woman card from time to time.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance he felt at her appearance out of his voice. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," she replied, the small tone of her voice again forming a stark contrast to the look in her eyes.

"You're William Adama?"

"Yes."

"The ... private detective, William Adama?" She asked curiously, her voice noticeably dropping as she called him by his professional title.

"Last time I checked." He was in no mood to play around and his answer came through terse. He obviously rustled the woman's feathers, as she pulled herself up and a sneer appeared.

"Do you know who I am?"

He honestly didn't. Was she a previous client? A person he had previously spied on? Bill was never good with appearances or names, but this woman did seem familiar somehow ….

She didn't give him a chance to figure it out, snatching a newspaper from underneath his now clasped hands on the desk. Throwing it back down, her fingers slowly crawled across the page, indicating a black and white picture. The woman in the picture had the same eyes, the same lips. Although curled and up in the picture, he could make out the hair starting to wisp around at her neck.

"Mrs Adar."

The mayor's wife. The trophy on the arm of the first man in the city. As recognition set in, Bill fought to keep his expression neutral. There were only a handful of reasons why a woman of her social standing would seek out a detective in a more remote part of the city instead of going to one of the larger agencies downtown. Bill wasn't sure he wanted to be drawn into the world of local politics. The few minutes he had spent in Mrs Adar's presence hadn't done much to make him feel otherwise.

"That's right," she replied with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "But please call me Rebecca."

Bill raised an eyebrow at her invitation. "What can I do for you, Mrs Adar?" he asked.

If it bothered her that he had ignored her request, she didn't let on.

"I require your services for-"

"If you're here for something to be dug up on your husband's competition then you're going to leave this building very disappointed." Adama's voice rumbled before being lost in the silence of the room.

Mrs Adar looked taken aback, her eyes shocked at the mere thought.

Looks like this is a personal matter then, he thought, sighing and slowly pulling a pen out of his chest pocket.

Indicating she should sit down, Bill slowly got up from his seat, groaning as he felt the sweat run all the way down his back. Moving over to a cabinet against the wall, he poured himself a glass of Ambrosia, tipping it back with ease, his throat welcoming the smooth liquid as it flowed down. He proceeded to pour himself another glass, before turning around.

"Ambrosia?"

"Please," Mrs Adar replied, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Bill's desk. While Bill's back was turned to her she took the opportunity to look around the room. It was not quite what she had expected. Although the room had a comfortable air, it was a far cry from the luxuries she was used to. It looked as if he worked on his own, no secretary, no partner or employee, no nothing. On the one hand she should have been happy about this as there was less of a chance of anything getting out to the press. On the other hand, William Adama did not strike her as easily impressed by her charm as she would have liked – which basically ruined her Plan B if she was not able to convince him with words to take her on as a client.

Adama handed her the glass silently, before seating himself back behind his large desk. She sat quietly, taking sips as he scrutinised her. Pretending not to notice his sharp gaze, she kept her eyes trained on the paper in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

"What can I do for you?" He asked curtly, his eyes gauging her reaction.

"I need someone followed." Mrs Adar's tone was measured, her voice giving away nothing.

He pulled some paper towards him, his pen poised at the ready, awaiting a name, an address, a motive.

"I'm going to need a bit more to go on than that. Care to elaborate?"

She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. Bill waited patiently, biting back an annoyed growl, for her to finally speak.

"Richard," she whispered, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

"I'm sorry?" He struggled to hear her talk, her voice muffled by her hand.

"Richard Adar. I want him followed."

Definitely a personal matter.

"Before anything is official, I need to know more than that."

Bill had a good idea where this was going and he wasn't sure if he liked it. Sure, he made most of his living by following someone's partner, but he had never had someone connected to a public figure come to him.

"Well, you see…" Mrs Adar began in a soft, almost vulnerable voice, fidgeting in her seat. She kept her eyes lowered, peering up at him from under her lashes. Bill couldn't help but feel that he was watching a well rehearsed act. "I think he may be having an affair and I want to know with whom."

Thought so, Bill thought. "And what makes you think that?"

"He… uhm… he seems to have lost… interest… If you know what I mean."

Adama stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly. She was playing a good game this woman, the vulnerability, the humility. She had another trick up her sleeve, no doubt, but Adama was no stranger to these sorts. They played the victim, convincing him to take up their job. Mrs Adar was doing the same thing, yet she really needn't worry. Bill wasn't going to pass up this job anytime soon as long as it didn't suddenly turn into political campaign. She didn't have to know that though.

"Method of payment?" He wasn't one to be pulled into a politician's trap, running around, weaving lies. He was a straight forward man. He wouldn't settle for any lies or deceit.

"Cash. Cubits," she elaborated as he opened his mouth. The currency on Caprica, "the amount of them depends on how well you do your job."

Bill nodded slowly; he had already expected something like that. But that was not the way he worked.

"My rate's 1.500 per day plus expenses," he informed her in a take it or leave it tone of voice.

For a fraction of a moment Bill thought he saw something flitter across her face and her eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could identify the expression it was gone and she put her façade back up.

"Fine," she agreed.

"Now that that's settled, tell me more about your husband and his daily routines."

"He gets up early for early meetings. He comes home about five in the evening, although lately he's been 'working' later," Her tone was mechanical, giving the impression that she had said this too many times, maybe as excuses to guests and friends as to why her husband wasn't in attendance. He felt a stab of pity at this, a wife making excuses for her cheating husband, all the while knowing what he was doing, "You'll find him leaving our house tomorrow at about five in the morning for one of these 'meetings'."

Bill drank his Ambrosia in one go, then watched, with the same intensity as he had watched Mrs Adar, his pen streak across the paper, noting everything down. The silence between them was punctuated only with the continuous scribbling of pen on paper. Finally, he raised his head and met her gaze.

"You want me to start then?"

"Yes," she replied, relieved that he was showing an interest in what she had to say.

"I'll need an address."

She pulled a piece of paper close to her, plucking the pen out of his hand, before leisurely noting down her address to him.

Bill looked at it before he put it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

"It might take a few days before I have any results and I can't guarantee that you will like what I'll find out."

"I understand," she replied with a slight nod of her head. "But at least I'll know…" She trailed off and again Bill felt a stab of sympathy for her. He had never really liked Richard Adar as a politician, too shady for his liking, and it looked as if the man wasn't much better as a husband either.

"Very well, I'll start tomorrow then."

Mrs Adar sighed a small sigh of relief before she stood up.

"Thank you," she said and extended her right hand to him. William Adama stood as well and took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. With a quiet "Goodbye," Mrs Adar turned around and left the office while Bill sat down at his desk again to plan the next day.

_I now had something to focus on. Something that would take me out of the office, away from the repetition of filing paperwork. I decided to take this challenge, believing it not everyday to get such a high profile target to follow and glean information out of. Richard Adar being a politician of course added extra challenges and a lot more intrigue. Would it be possible to get such information out of a man whose job was to deal in lies and facades? Would he notice me? All these thoughts ran through my head as I finally locked my office door that night. I couldn't go back to my apartment, not when I had such things on my mind. I needed another opinion, maybe someone to talk me out of it, tell me not to touch it with a ten foot pole. My decision was made. I walked out onto the streets, my coat folded over my arm, my hat placed on my head, shading my eyes from view. I headed down the road, towards a rough looking bar._


	2. Chapter 2

Apologies for the delay in updating. RL got in the way.

Chapter 2

_As I walked down the street, my mind returned to Mrs Adar and the case I had just accepted. Why would Richard Adar want to cheat on her? Why would anyone want to cheat on their spouses? Before I could put a stop to that train of thought my mind turned to Carolanne. Had she cheated on me as well?_

_With a sigh I came to a stop in front of a bar and opened the door, wondering if Saul would be there today._

The bar was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the glaring sunlight outside. The sight that met Bill was familiar, from the dusty glasses sitting on the counter, to the damaged triad table over in the corner and a customer sitting, shoulders stooped, on a stool in front of him. The only noise was the echoing reverberation of the fan above their heads, slowly picking dust up and letting it float around the bar.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Bill gave a sigh of relief. The bar may have been dusty and smoke-filled, but it was also several degrees cooler than outside, making it his favourite place to be for the moment. He walked up to the bar and deposited his coat and fedora on one of the stools. The bartender looked at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Bill nodded shortly at him while he sat down on another stool next to the bar's only other customer.

"Ambrosia." His voice was rough, his throat begging him for liquid. The bartender acknowledged him silently and turned his back, setting to work filling the order. It wasn't often he got a lot of customers, and so he took his time filling the glass up, much to Bill's annoyance. After a few minutes in awkward silence, the bartender set the drink down in front of him, before moving out of sight. The man to Bill's left just sat there quietly, his eyes intent on his own drink.

Both men sat there and nursed their drinks for a moment, still not speaking. When he was halfway through his first drink, Bill finally turned to the man to his left.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here at this hour?" he asked.

The man in question sighed heavily. "Do you really need to ask?" he replied without looking up. "Ellen."

Bill resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have seen that answer coming. There were only two reasons that drove Saul Tigh into this particular bar this early in the morning: either he had lost a bet on his favourite Pyramid team or he'd had yet another fight with his wife, Ellen, and there had been no Pyramid game in weeks.

"Women," both men muttered in unison, the defeat evident in their voices. Chuckling slightly, Bill shook his head and returned his gaze to the drink in front of him.

"Kicked you out again?" he asked Tigh quietly, taking in the man bedraggled appearance and growing stubble.

"Can't come back in until I've learnt my lesson," Tigh informed him, nursing his drink in his hands.

"And the lesson today is?"

"I..." Saul's voice faltered and his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. After a few seconds, his eyes went vacant once more and he started to laugh, his body shaking slightly on the stool, "I can't remember. I can't frakking remember, Bill."

Bill silently regarded his friend, his thoughts moving fleetingly towards how drunk Tigh actually was. His eyes were slightly unfocused, his mouth moving slowly, but no words coming out.

"That's always a good start," Bill muttered in reply, taking a much needed swig of his drink.

He couldn't really blame Saul, neither for drinking heavily nor for not remembering what the fight with his wife had been about. Ellen Tigh had always been difficult to please. Since the day of their wedding she had taken every opportunity to inform her husband that she'd married beneath her. Anne had even suspected that Ellen had only married Saul to spite her parents.

Bill sighed yet again and finished his drink. Thinking about his own wife did not help raise his spirits. Ex-wife, he reminded himself. Both had only recently signed the divorce papers and though it had been at his own instigation, he had a hard time getting used to it. It didn't help that his own son refused to take his calls or that Ellen Tigh felt the need to bring up his failed marriage every chance she got.

Saul coughed slightly, shaking Bill's thoughts back to the present.

"It's four in the afternoon, Bill. What are you doing here anyway? Lee called you up again?"

"No," Bill replied, finishing his drink off and sitting up straighter. Lee lately had a habit of calling him up at ridiculous times, to shout at him, blame him for a ruined childhood, blame him for the death of his brother, "I've got a job soon. Tomorrow morning."

Tigh's ears pricked up in interest. He knew as much as Bill that the business was not going too well at the moment, and so to hear of a job was interesting indeed.

"Anyone I know?" It was fun for Saul to dwell on other people's problems.

"Oh yeah, you know him alright," Bill stated, a smug smile on his lips. Saul growled, obviously annoyed at his friend for avoiding filling him in.

"Well, who!?"

"Richard Adar," Bill said. He then had to pat his friend on the back hard when his drink went down the wrong way.

"Richard Adar the mayor?" Saul asked once he stopped wheezing. "How did you get him as a client?"

"Do you know any other? And I didn't."

Saul blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Must be the alcohol, Bill thought. Tigh wasn't usually this slow on the uptake when it came to Bill's job.

"His wife hired me," he clarified.

"Whatever for?" Saul's words were slightly slurred, indicating yet again that he must have imbibed a substantial amount of alcohol before Bill had arrived.

"What do you think" he asked in return, rolling his eyes. Tigh gave a low whistle as comprehension set in.

"Smarmy frakker," he stated, toying with the now empty glass in front of him, "I've always said that about him. Always knew he was a sneaky one…"

Bill just smiled slightly, having no wish to bring up the fact that Tigh had voted him in, stating how he was going to save Caprica and looked a genuine guy. Instead he let his friend carry on slurring drunken remarks.

"… Can't see why he would cheat though … slimy as he is, didn't think that … I mean she's quite … Why would he cheat on _that _piece of skirt?"

"I don't know Saul. I'm not here to find out why, only to find out with whom."

Tigh's shoulder slumped further, his head hanging as if it was too much of an effort to keep up.

"Must be … quite something …" he mumbled, his voice losing its resolve.

"Yeah, this woman must be worth the risk he's taking," Bill agreed, his thoughts now travelling to who Richard Adar could possibly be having an affair with. It had to be someone he could not arouse suspicion with, someone who is with him a lot quite possibly, who no-one would suspect of anything like this. After all, this was the first time Bill had heard of Adar having a suspected affair, and the media in Caprica had a way of knowing everything.

"Care to … get me her … number?" Saul asked, before letting out a loud bark of laughter.

"And have Ellen come after me?" Bill retorted laughingly. "I think not. Besides," he continued, sobering up a little, "what would you want with her? A woman who' engaging in an affair with a married man – and Adar no less – must be pretty low on morals and taste."

Saul looked at his friend and saw him take a sip of his second glass of Ambrosia. "Maybe he's good in bed," he replied, then broke out laughing again when Bill gave an impressive imitation of a fountain.

"Oh, thanks a lot. That's not an image I need in my head right now!"

Saul continued laughing. In fact, he was laughing so hard that he almost fell off his stool. Bill caught him and helped him get to his feet, keeping one hand clamped around Saul's upper arm to keep him upright. With the other he fished a few notes from his pants pocket and threw them on the counter.

"Come on, let's get you home."

"Home?"

"Yeah, home."

"Alright Bill," Tigh threw his arm around Bill's neck, causing him to duck slightly under the weight, "you're the … boss."

With Tigh resting heavily against him slurring incomprehensible sentences in his ear, Bill pushed forwards to the door of the bar, kicking it open. He slowly hobbled outside with Saul at his shoulder.

"Wait, wait!" Tigh suddenly shouted, past caring at the early hour about waking anyone up, "I can't go back! Ellen will … Err … Ellen will … Well I'm sure she'll do something …"

"Yeah," muttered Bill in agreement, his breath shortening under the weight of his friend, "she'll invite you in and you'll both drink some coffee and go to bed."

"Yeah, we'll … we'll do that," Saul agreed, a smile appearing on his lips, "I can … make my own way home I think."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." With that Tigh pushed half-heartedly off of Bill's shoulder and took a few shaky steps backwards, nearly tripping over the curb of the pavement.

Bill shook his head and grabbed Saul's arm again, once again keeping his friend from falling and this time taking Bill down with him in the process.

"So I see," he muttered.

Just then a taxi pulled up a few metres down the road. Bill watched two young women dressed in business suits and loaded with overnight bags get out. Once the pair had paid their fare, Bill waved at the driver to come up. When he did, Bill deposited Saul, who was almost asleep by now, in the backseat, then handed the driver a few notes and gave him the address. He watched the car drive off and then turned around to walk into the opposite direction.

It was just gone five in the morning and still the heat was suffocating. Bill Adama stood just outside a building, his feet tapping impatiently against the concrete below him. He was always early. It didn't bode well to ever be late, knowing that even by a minute he could miss something important. So he stood, waiting a fair distance away from the nondescript door that his unwavering gaze focussed on. It was a deep red colour, paint fading away slightly from age and weathering. Richard Adar was obviously too busy, too _important_, to even consider repainting the door, and judging by what he saw in his office, Rebecca Adar wasn't too concerned with decorating.

At 5.15 am a navy blue town car pulled up in front of the house. A man in a dark business suit got out and walked up to the front door to ring the bell. Before the inhabitants had a chance to open the door, the chauffeur had returned to stand beside the back door of the car.

A few minutes later Richard Adar stepped out and into the car without a glance neither at his wife who stood behind the curtain of the bedroom window nor at his chauffeur. The man took his seat behind the wheel again and drove off.

"Damn!" Bill swore as he jogged down the street. Why hadn't it occurred to him that the mayor might be picked up by a car?

_Because his office was only a few roads away, that's why. _Bill was in a hurry now, so he had no time to inwardly scold the man for polluting the city when he could have just walked. With one last glance back at the house, meeting the eyes of Rebecca who stood watch nodding at him, Bill disappeared around the corner, trying in vain to catch up.

_I followed them swiftly, but to no avail. As I turned the last corner that the car had driven round, I saw only the sun beating mercilessly above my head. The street was deserted, leaving me in no doubt that this job was going to be harder than I first thought. If I was going to do this job well, I would have to use a lot more initiative… and maybe transport._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_I could never remember running so fast. When I was a kid, I used to race my friends down to a nearby lake, but that was nothing. A youthful activity, not to be taken up by an aging man. Yet, there I was, sprinting down the road, trying desperately to follow a car that didn't seem to want to stop. Just as my legs were starting to give up, however, the car slowed down__, before disappearing around a sharp bend. _

Bill rounded the last corner and slowed down when he realized that his target was nowhere in sight.

"Frak!" he cursed under his breath – or would have if he had any breath left to spare. As it was, he came to a stop in front of the Town Hall wheezing and gasping. Sweat was running down his back. It was only just past 5.30 am and already it was shaping up to be another blisteringly hot day.

Once his breathing had returned to a somewhat normal pattern, Bill slowly walked up the steps to the front door. Predictably it was still locked. The only way to get in would have been to knock on the glass doors and alert the night watchman, so that was out of the question. After one last look into the foyer, Bill turned away and started to walk around the building to get an idea of its layout.

Glancing nonchalantly, Bill noted a distinct lack of security as he made his way round the building. No lights, no guards, not a single bit of equipment to alert anyone to intruders or lurkers. _This is one of the most important buildings in the city! You've got to be frakking kidding me, _Bill snorted in amusement. He would have been outraged if it hadn't looked so damn lucky for him. There was no outer security to recognise him as a stranger, and that meant he didn't have to worry about being spotted as he regarded the structure and layout.

The building itself loomed over him, many windows rising upwards to the very top floor, nearly a hundred feet or so up. He didn't envy the window cleaner at all, that was for sure. Bill felt thoroughly good about being a Private Eye.

When he reached the back of the building, Bill noticed that the only way in and out – besides the windows – was a heavy steel door that he supposed led to the cellar of the building. He had no intention of entering the premises through anything else but the front door, but it never hurt to be prepared for an emergency. Bill had been inside the Town Hall on several times, but only ever in connection with his license. He had no idea where Adar's office was located, but he hoped that it wouldn't be too difficult to get in – or at least to get close.

Following the pavement, he found himself standing out at the front again, looking at the front door. Still no lights on there, and Bill sighed impatiently. The building was not the concrete chaos he had hoped for. Not a single intriguing thing about it. Bill was just going to have to walk in boldly and hope for the best. He had to rely now on his own quick thinking to get himself near Adar.

He settled his back against a lamppost nearby, preparing himself for a long wait. The Town Hall, despite its organised members and reputation, was inconsistent on when it opened its doors. Bill sighed and pulled down his fedora slightly, shading himself from anyone who happened to be walking down the street at half five in the morning. It was then that his phone vibrated, alerting him to the fact that someone was calling.

Bill took the device out of his pocket and looked at its small display. When he recognised the caller, his eyebrows rose in question. _What's wrong now?_

"Saul, what's up?" he asked by way of a greeting.

His answer was the high-pitched squeaks of a woman in the background. Bill couldn't make out what was being said – or rather shouted – but he recognized the voice as that of Ellen Tigh. Instantly he had a good idea of why Saul had called him.

"Bill?" Saul's voice was even more slurred than the last time the two men had spoken. Bill guessed that he had not gone straight home after they had parted ways a few hours ago.

"What is it?" Bill sighed imperceptibly, resigning himself to being dragged into the conflict that he guessed was in full swing, judging by the noises being emitted by Ellen.

Tigh didn't reply and instead Bill caught parts of sentences, fragmented by the two voices trying to shout over each other.

"You said you wouldn't drink-"

"-I was locked out of the frakking house!"

"-I told you, Saul! You said you wouldn't drink and-"

"-So I went to the bar and had… had one drink!" Bill winced as he detected the slurring in Saul's voice. There was no way Ellen would believe him, "you can ask Bill … he's … he's on the phone right now!"

Bill definitely did not want to be dragged into this, but Ellen's voice drew closer to the receiver and he found no escape. He couldn't possibly hang up, he had tried that before. It hadn't worked.

"William Adama!"

_Frak._

"Ellen…"

"Don't you Ellen me! What did you think you were doing getting Saul drunk again?"

_Now wait a frakking minute!_

"I did not get him drunk!" he hissed. "I met him after _you_ threw him out. Again I might add."

Ellen continued ranting as if Bill hadn't spoken. Most likely, she hadn't even heard him. In the background Bill could hear Saul's voice and though he couldn't make out what he said it had at least helped him tune out Ellen. That is until one of her comments pulled him back into the conversation.

"… it's no wonder Carolanne left…"

"Ellen, shut up!" Tigh shouted in the background, his exclamation followed by a loud crash and the sound of something – or someone – hitting the floor. Silence reigned for a moment, before-

"For frak's sake, Saul!" Bill heard Ellen scream, "That table has been there for two weeks now! It was a gift from my aunt-"

Bill sighed in frustration, before finally shouting down the phone, "I'll be there as soon as I can, Ellen, just frakking shut up!"

Ellen's voice stopped abruptly, and he heard her laboured breathing, and the sound of scraping as Tigh no doubt picked himself up off of the floor.

"You certainly _will _be here, Adama!" she stated scathingly, "you will sort out this mess and-!"

Bill angrily jammed the phone in his pocket, hitting multiple buttons just to stop the shrill voice of Ellen ringing in his ears.

With one last glance at the Town Hall and an angry growl Bill turned around and went in search of a cab. He spent the next 20 minutes in a taxi that had no air conditioning and who's driver apparently did not believe in regular showers, all the while thinking up creative and painfully slow ways of killing Ellen Tigh. Bill Adama was not a violent man by nature, but that woman really brought out the worst in him – and in her husband. Not for the first time did Bill wonder why Saul was still married to her.

The taxi came to a stop in front of a semi-detached house that had obviously seen better days and whose front garden was in serious need of some weeding. Bill knew that Saul hated gardening, so why in the Gods' names he had agreed to buy this house was beyond him. Maybe it was just to get Ellen off his back. Speaking of which…

As soon as the taxi had left, the front door of the house was thrown open and Ellen appeared in the doorway with arms akimbo and an angry scowl on her face.

"It's about frakking time!"

…………

It was just gone seven when Bill reappeared at the Town Hall. Unlike earlier, however, the building was buzzing with life. Instead of a strong silence, there was amiable chatter as people crowded to enter the building, fresh and ready for a new day at work. The doors refused to stay shut, constantly being slammed open as men and women flooded through them. Bill stopped in his tracks, reluctant to entangle himself in the crowds. He stood close by, watching as they all entered the building. It seemed that no-one stood at the doors to check admission. _This is going to be easier than I thought;_ a small smile appeared on Bill's lips as he tugged his coat closer around him and entered the throng of people.

Once inside, Bill made his way over to the elevators, where a display panel informed visitors about the location of the most important offices. He wasn't really surprised to find that the mayor's office was not up on that panel. As lax as the security measures might appear, this would have been an open invitation for every dissatisfied resident in Caprica.

_Okay, this calls for Plan B,_ Bill thought. The only trouble was: he didn't have a Plan B yet. Bill turned around to walk over to the reception desk without watching where he was going. This, however, soon turned out to be a bad idea when he suddenly bumped into someone, who apparently wasn't watching where they were going either.

The sound of papers fluttering in the air caught his attention, and he heard a gasp followed by multiple bangs as objects hit the floor in front.

"I'm sorry," Bill automatically replied, bending down to help pick up the stray pieces of paper, but he was brought to a halt when he saw who he had inadvertently bumped into.

Her hair was a flaming red, silky and slightly curled as it fell down over her face. He couldn't see her features as she was bent down, desperately collecting what she had dropped. Her hair itself could have left him speechless for hours, bouncing lightly as her head moved.

"That's ok," she replied, and Bill was enraptured once more. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but every word was clearly pronounced, echoing in his ears. It was a soft tone, encasing him, drawing him in. For a few moments, Bill could only stare, his mouth slightly open. Reality hit him, however, when the voice continued;

"Can you grab that pen for me please? It's near your feet."

"What?" he asked, blinking rapidly.

"My pen, near your feet," she repeated with a slight melodic laugh in her voice.

"Oh, sorry. Here you go."

"Thank you," the woman replied and the smile she gave him could have lit any room. It started out at her lips and spread out over her whole face. Her emerald eyes were twinkling and Bill felt himself get lost in them almost immediately. With a visible effort he took a step back and out of her personal space.

"I'm really sorry," he apologized again.

"Don't be," she countered. "It was just as much my fault."

Bill hastily handed back what he had gathered up off the floor, offering to help put it back into some semblance of order. She refused, the amusement still glinting in her eyes as she watched the flustering man before her.

"Well, I really need to get to my office, so I'll be seeing you around, Mr…?" She left the sentence hanging, waiting patiently for Bill to fill it.

"Well, have a good day at work then," he rushed, not hearing her words. Bill was too overcome, instead choosing to just speak glibly in hope of getting something right.

"This is the part where you tell me your name." _That damn radiant smile again! _thought Bill furiously, imploring his brain to catch up. _What did she ask for? ... A name! A name! Don't give her your name, you frakking idiot! She'll figure you out!_

Bill's mind went into overdrive, stumbling over fake names, lies, admissions of guilt, bribes. His silence caused the woman's smile to falter, and he saw her mentally scold herself. Looking slightly more flustered, she quickly smoothed over the awkward moment, the glint now gone from her eyes.

"That was foolish of me, I'm sorry. I have got to catch that elevator."

She rearranged the folders in her arms and held her head up slightly higher, trying desperately to look more dignified. With a last quick, forced smile, she strode over to the elevator, where a man was patiently holding the doors open for her. She offered a polite "thanks" and positioned herself at the front of the waiting workers. Before the doors slid shut, the woman smiled once more, catching Bill off guard.

"Bye," he whispered, half to himself, still gazing at where she stood in the elevator just moments before.

_I stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed elevator door__s, probably looking like a complete idiot – which I certainly was. Why hadn't I given her a name – any name – or at least asked for hers? What must she think of me now? But who wouldn't get lost in those beautiful eyes? I needed to find out who she was – and how I could see her again…I was harshly pulled back into reality when someone bumped into me from behind. I blinked to regain my focus. After all, I was here for a reason, and that was not to meet a woman, no matter how gorgeous she may be…_


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the next chapter. I apologize for the long wait, but school, exams, work, computer crashes and real life in general got in the way…

_I couldn't breathe. To do so surely would ruin the moment. Such a human, mundane thing to do when confronted with someone so obviously from the fields of Elysium themselves. I could only watch, transfixed, as she disappeared from view. As the elevator doors closed, I snapped out of it. I had a job to do. _

It took a few moments, but once Bill regained the ability to think, talk and communicate with his limbs, he made his way slowly over to the elevator. He was careful to keep his expression neutral, his entire appearance mundane. He was just another busy worker in the building as far as he and anybody else was concerned. Stepping into the elevator, he was relieved to find he was the only one in there. Bill peered at the buttons opposite, wondering which floor he should take a look at. It was always good to get a feel of the building, in case anything went sour. He settled on the floor below where the city's central administration offices were located, which he assumed includedAdar's office. Maybe there was a simple, no-ID-needed way into the office above. As he contemplated how to set about his work, a man quickly strode into the elevator. He wore dark glasses, his eyes hidden behind them. No doubt a tool of intimidation, not that they worked on Bill. The man was about the same height, his hair mussed, slightly balding on top.

"You gettin' a good look there?" the man asked, his head slowly turning towards Bill. Bill could pick up a definite accent in the man's voice. He was obviously not born on Caprica. The elevator doors shut and Bill felt the floor shake as they moved slowly upwards.

"Your glasses. Surely you don't need to wear them inside?" Bill asked politely, trying to keep the conversation light and impersonal.

"'Everything is in the eyes. Prosecution can build a case on just one look.'"

"Joseph Adama."

The man looked curiously at Bill, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

"The lawyer, Joseph Adama used to say that," Bill explained, his eyes still ahead on the elevator doors.

"You study law?" the man asked.

"No," Bill shook his head and laughed at the idea, "I've never had an interest in law. My father was a lawyer. Read a lot of books, including those by Joseph Adama."

"Really?" The man seemed interested, and Bill cursed inwardly for letting so much slip, "Maybe I've met him. Romo Lampkin," he introduced himself, holding out his hand in welcome.

Bill's mind once again went blank as he tried to think up a name. Luckily, he was saved in the nick of time as the elevator doors opened. Stepping out hurriedly, he stated; "This is my floor. Maybe I'll see you again, Mr Lampkin." He tipped his fedora to the bemused lawyer as the doors clanged shut, taking the man out of sight, out of his life. Bill breathed a sigh of relief, before turning around – only to sigh again when he realized which floor he had stepped onto.

_Maybe I should have looked at the floor number first,_ he thought and resisted rolling his eyes. In his haste to get away from Romo Lampkin, he had gotten off at the first floor without caring which one it was. A mistake, Bill decided as he stared at the sign on the doors that separated the stairs and elevators from the hallway announcing the registration office. Not only was he now at least two floors below where Bill assumed the mayor's office to be, no, the hallway was also already packed with citizens although the offices wouldn't open for at least another half hour.

_So much for looking around inconspicuously._

With another sigh – had he ever sighed so much in his life before? – Bill took off his coat and fedora and entered the hallway. He nodded politely at a few of the people he passed while he slowly walked down the corridor, giving the impression of just stretching his legs while he was scanning the doors. Each side of the hallway contained four offices, each one with a door made of frosted glass. The signs next to the door announced the type of service offered and the name of the employees inside, sometimes two or three, sometimes just one. Bill realised that obviously the size of the rooms varied and any information he could gain about the layout of this floor would probably not be applicable to any other floor.

When he reached the end of the hallway, Bill threw what seemed to be a casual glance out of the window. None of the windows could be opened apart from the odd skylight and a small glass door leading to the fire escape.

Having gleaned all the information he could from this floor, Bill turned around and strolled back to the elevator.

****

He walked through the main foyer again, his expression stoic. He was disappointed and annoyed at the lack of information he had managed to gain, but Bill tried to not let it show. Pushing roughly through the gathering crowds of people, he managed to reach the main doors. He wished for cold air to greet him, but bitterly settled for the humidity. He needed to know where Adar's office was, it was a necessity to the case. If Adar was screwing around, then it would either be in his office or somewhere close by. Maybe Bill could get some sort of surveillance in there? A wiretap, screening his calls. Maybe a small camera? He shook his head at the thought. That's not how Bill Adama went about his business, no matter how difficult the case was. Richard Adar was no different. It was going to be difficult and it was going to take a lot of skill and human surveillance, but Bill was sure he could do it. He considered the prospect of having to put his life on hold to accomplish this task, and then snorted derisively. _What life? _Gods forbid he should miss a night of drinking with his friend Saul Tigh.

It was at that moment that he saw her again. Bill was trained to spot the details, to know who he was following in a crowd. As he looked through the doors into the building one last time, he saw auburn hair, reflecting the lights of the room. It was her, he knew it, the woman he had run into earlier. What was she doing back down in the main foyer? He wondered what she was up to, his eyes tracking her as she made her way back over to the spot where they had first bumped into each other. Bill was unable to look away, drawn to what she was doing. He saw her slowly bend down, picking something up off of the floor. As she straightened up, he saw that it was a book. He must not have seen it before, although he was sure he had picked up everything for her after their collision. Then again, he _had been _distracted. Bill continued to look at the woman in the foyer, and was startled when her head turned and she looked right back. Her green eyes were visible even from a distance, and he could make out a smile playing on her lips as she held his gaze.

For a moment Bill stood rooted to the spot and had to make a conscious effort to blink. Just as he was about to walk back into the building and properly introduce himself to her, he saw her turn around and hurry back into the direction she'd come from as if someone had called her, throwing another quick glance over her shoulder in his direction.

Bill shook his head as if to clear it and finally left the Town Hall.

***

Bill Adama sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen, having returned to his office immediately after leaving the Town Hall. He hadn't really thought that getting close to Adar would have been as easy as just stepping through the front doors, but he had at least had to try. Under normal circumstances it would have been easy for a P.I. with Bill's experience to come up with a back-up plan on the spot, but today his mind had just gone blank after his run-in with the mysterious redheaded woman.  
Now he was browsing the Town Hall's website in an attempt to find a way to get either close to Richard Adar or into his office. At least, that had been his plan when he'd turned on his computer. But obviously his mind had other ideas today; every now and then he found himself looking for the identity of a certain redhead that he couldn't get out of his mind, clicking on every female name he came across.

_Snap out of it, man!_ he admonished himself. Still, his hand seemed to move out of its own volition, clicking on the next name on the website.

And suddenly, there she was. The picture had obviously been taken a while ago, her hair was shorter, even darker in it, but the eyes were the same unmistakable sparkling pools of emerald that had captivated him earlier. Laura Roslin, DG Education and Culture, the caption read.

"Laura."

It came out as nothing more than a whisper, his mouth forming the name of the mysterious woman with a certain degree of awe. He shook his head suddenly, trying to banish the image of her. He had a job to do and if he wanted to keep in the business, then he would get it done. No woman would come between him and his job. He now knew the woman's name, end of mystery. She was just another person now, probably one he wouldn't see again. Bill brought up visitor guides to the building on his computer, rifling through them for a certain floor and a certain location. Surely they wouldn't miss off Adar's office on the maps?

Indistinct voices drifted through the window behind him, taunting him with the joy and enthusiasm in their tones. It was obviously lunchtime. Bill would be working through his lunchtime, he knew that, searching through maps and building layouts. He was envious of the people outside, but tried to block them out. They didn't exist, just things in his office existed for the moment. There were no shops out there, no people talking excitedly about the heat and holiday plans to Virgon, nothing. There were just four walls around him, a faulty fan and a lot of paperwork. At least, that's what Bill tried to convince himself of. However, working didn't mean he couldn't have takeout lunch on the side.

Resolutely, Bill pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up. He walked out the door, picking up his coat and fedora on the way, and made his way to the nearest noodle bar just a couple of houses down the road. He was a regular here, so the young woman behind the counter greeted him with a "The usual?" when she recognized him. He nodded.

"And a bottle of ambrosia," Bill added thoughtfully, remembering the long afternoon of research that was awaiting him. He was already looking forward to taking a long sip and savouring the familiar burning trail it would leave down his throat.

"Should you really be doing that?" a sudden sharp voice caused Bill to stand up straighter and splutter slightly. Who the frak was there talking to him? He glanced around the shop, eyes narrowed. What the frak was going on? He heard the voice again, fainter than before and he automatically turned towards the open door. It was coming from outside. Bill dashed to the door and looked out.

"Honey I told you before you shouldn't be doing that ..." Richard Adar trailed off, listening to the reply. He was on his phone, slowly meandering past the building, "...because we have a frakking maid, that's why," he sighed, looking frustrated, "no I won't be home until late. I told you, I have a meeting later with ... yes I know you went to all the trouble to ... look, this meeting could make or break an alliance with the miners who ... yes I know ... I'm still going to that meeting ... what does it matter where it is?"

Richard continued to walk past and his replies grew inaudible. Bill continued to look out of the door, his gaze unfocused as he recalled Adar's replies. He must have been talking to his wife, but why didn't he want her to know where he was going for the meeting?

Bill looked back over his shoulder towards the counter. His order was nowhere in sight and he made a split-second decision. He didn't know where Adar was going or who he was meeting, but he knew that he was going to be a few feet behind every step of the way.

Bill rushed outside. The waitress called after him but he ignored her. Instead, he hurried after Adar, who was just at this moment finishing his conversation and rounding a corner into a back road a few yards down the road. Bill made sure to follow him with enough distance to remain unobtrusive. It worried him slightly that the road was practically deserted. If for some reason Adar decided to turn around, he would spot Bill immediately. And if they didn't come into a more crowded road soon, the mayor would realize he was being followed.

As it turned out, Bill was worrying unnecessarily. Richard Adar turned around another corner and stopped in front of a cosy looking café after another couple of steps. There he was immediately greeted by a young dark haired woman that could only be described as petit. Adar took both of her hands in his and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her cheek then led her inside.

_Alliance with the miners, my ass_, Bill thought. He followed the pair inside. Unfortunately, the only free table left was too far away for him to hear what both were talking about.

_I tried to get closer to the Mayor as he sat talking to this mystery woman, but the cafe seemed too small for the amount of tables the manager obviously insisted on. It was cramped quarters and I had to resign myself to the fact that Adar was just too far away to be able to learn anything. I deliberated whether to wait at my table and follow them when they had finished, but as the waitress placed a menu in my hands, I realised that to do so would mean to buy something from this cafe and the menu did not look at all appetising. Food definitely not fit for a Mayor in any case. My suspicions grew._


End file.
